


The Vexation of Mitigation

by FaeMytho



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Arackniss works through some issues, Baxter is trans, Baxter is very bitter and Arackniss needs to calm down, Chemical warfare, Gun Violence, I PROMISE THIS WILL NOT BE TOXIC, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mob Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, also they're in hell for a reason, i promise the hotel staff will show up, they just need to work through their issues together bc nobody's perfect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeMytho/pseuds/FaeMytho
Summary: Baxter is a scientist in hell, doing what a scientist in hell can only do: providing the chemical to the local mob's chemical warfare, in exchange for their protection. He's good at what he does. A valuable asset who cannot afford to be bought out by any of the mob's competitors.Arackniss doesn't get the memo, but in his defense, Baxter is themostannoying person he's ever met.
Relationships: Arackniss/Baxter (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	The Vexation of Mitigation

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i know this pairing is out of left field but hear me out: short boyfriends
> 
> actually, this rarepair was born from this fantastic discord server i joined, and honestly? i fell for it so hard and i managed to actually plan a fic out, which i never do ever - this is that fic
> 
> so i have high hopes for this. updates will probably be slow because i am currently between 6 fandoms right now? yep. ANYWAYS, hope yall like this ♥

"Do ya ever shut up?"

Baxter paused in his ramblings, immediately ducking his head and his fins flaring in alarm. The sound of a gun being cocked reverberated around the sleek, dark lab, and he barely resisted a flinch as the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head. As requested, or rather, demanded, he continued his work in silence, and the gun was withdrawn. As soon as it was gone, he let himself relax, his fins pressing back up against his head and his shoulders dropping in relief. The spider demon behind him scoffed, and Baxter scrunched up his face in an ugly, mocking manner. His only comfort was that the spider couldn't see him.

He'd only been talking about the very thing the mobster had come to pick up. The acid and its properties, and what exactly it did, what not to do with it, and how to dispose of it, but apparently, talking at all was a serious no-no with this guy. He hadn't even gotten a name when he'd asked, only a scathing glare and a rude gesture to pick up the pace.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Baxter muttered, thoroughly discouraged. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had ever actually listened to him, and this wasn't the first time he'd packed up acid for these guys. Of course, this was hell, and nobody really cared what he had to say. They only really cared about what he could do. It was exactly the reason why the spider demon was there, and why he was here packing up some extremely dangerous chemicals for him.

"Ain't paying ya t' talk, and I ain't bein' paid to listen. Shut yer yap and hand it over," the dark grey spider growled, and Baxter shut the black, metal case, clicking the lock shut and moving aside.

"There's your acid, all packed up just for you," he muttered, resisting the urge to snarl the words. The spider demon had a gun, and while he wasn't worried about dying, he didn't quite fancy the idea of having to regenerate having his brains blown out.

The spider stepped forward, giving him a sneer. Five of his arms were curled behind him, and the sixth lazily twirled the little handgun he held. Baxter tried not to stare. He wondered how it must've felt getting to hell and having to recoordinate hand-eye movement to four additional limbs.

The gun was aimed at his face, and immediately, any trace of annoyance he'd had was gone, replaced with a shock of fear. His hands raised up beside his head in alarm, fins flaring and lure bobbing in front of him as he straightened up, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

"Toldja t' shut up," the spider hissed softly, thumb shifting on the gun, and the gun gave a little click as he looked away. Baxter swallowed, keeping his mouth shut and looking up at the not much taller demon. He watched as the spider's middle set of arms reached out to undo the latch of the case, unlocking it and opening it up. Apparently, he liked what he saw, and Baxter was treated to the sight of a smirk on the face of someone he wasn't even sure knew how to smile at all.

Not that he even knew who this was, and therefore didn't know the smiling habits of the other demon in the first place. The point was that he hadn't seemed friendly in the slightest, and Baxter had feelings, thank you very much. He wasn't even granted an answer to the question of what the other demon's name was. Now, he was hesitant to ask.

The spider demon shut the case and latched it, hefting it off the lab table and holding it with two arms. He glanced at Baxter, then at the gun he still held up towards Baxter's face.

Baxter wondered, for a moment, if he was going to be granted mercy.

"Just in case this ain't the shit we asked for," the spider spoke, and nonchalantly pulled the trigger.

Baxter's world went white, the lab went dark, and he splattered against the wall.

-

Baxter came to with only one eye reformed and his lure only just beginning to glow again. He lay on the dark lab floor, thoughts rising up in half formed, hazy memories of the moments just before he'd passed out.

He kept forgetting about this part, or maybe somewhere in the accursed emotional part of his brain, he had hope that it would stop happening. But this was hell, after all, and all he could do was lie there while his flesh knit itself back together. Of course there was no mercy in hell.

Nausea rose to the forefront of his mind, and he heaved, retching bile down his half reformed, bloody chin. Disgusted and in throbbing, nearly unbearable agony, he could only think about how much of a pain that was going to be to clean up.

Nothing he could do about it now, though. He couldn't even feel his left shoulder yet. He lay against the wall of his darkened lab, and watched as his lure knit itself back together, mind whirling even though it'd just been blown apart.

For every demon, there was something, some turning point in their life where there was just simply no going back. It was their guarantee that they would be sent to hell upon death, whether or not they knew it. Most demons didn't know their turning point. Most demons didn't care.

Baxter knew his, and was forever bitter about it.

It simply wasn't fair, he griped and grumbled to himself. The pursuit of knowledge was not a sin, in his most humble, yet professional opinion. Of course, he always conveniently left out the bit about knowledge at the cost of others, but really, who could fault him for that?

Knowledge was power. And power, everyone knew, was one of the most coveted things a person could seek. It was only logical, really, that the most powerful person was really the one who knew the most.

Now, in hell and near powerless to protect himself, much less his research, Baxter bitterly decided that that was a load of shit. The only place being smart ever got him was kicked around under the feet of those who already had power, had secured power.

He didn't belong here, regenerating his flesh and scales and bone, helpless against dark walls in a laboratory in hell. He belonged somewhere better. Somewhere he could be revered, somewhere he was loved and celebrated for his accomplishments.

He was bitter and angry, and nothing was going to stop him from making sure each and every last demon in this shithole of an afterlife would get what they deserved.

Starting with that damned spider who shot him.


End file.
